The Soul's Revenge
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: Years after the incident in Vermont, Collins, Connor, and their families are normal again. But what happens when they're brought back together under mysterious circumstances? Sequel to I Love You, Professor; post-RENT, slightly AU because Angel lives.
1. Chapter 1

**It's time for a sequel! All right! Okay, this will probably be the craziest fic I have ever written. Just a heads up there. The rating is T for now, but **_**will **_**be bumped up to M in later chapters. Oh yeah, Angel lives! Woo-hoo! That's all I have to tell you for now. Enjoy the first chapter.**

**I own the plot line and the OCs. I do **_**not **_**own the title, anything Law & Order related, or anything RENT related.**

Collins felt all eyes on him as he walked up to the front of the room. Angel had told him that these meetings would get easier if he kept going, but it didn't seem that way to him. He was starting to believe that the only reason he was going was to keep himself preoccupied so he didn't have time to think of where and how fast he could get morphine. It had been a trying three years and another relapse was the last thing he needed.

Before he left the apartment, he had a long talk with Angel about how hard it was getting to continue the meetings. How he didn't feel like they were helping him. She simply told him to share. Share how the drug came into his life and why he was coming to the meetings. He promised her he would try, but now, as he made his way to the front to do so, he didn't know if he could.

He stood there for a moment, looking out at the faces of the men and women who were just like him. They were here because they had nowhere else to go and felt they couldn't be trusted alone for even a minute. They didn't make eye contact. No one ever smiled.

"Uh . . . hi," Collins began. No one moved, but they all seemed interested in what he was about to say. "My name is Collins . . . Tom . . . and I . . . I have a problem with morphine."

"Hi, Tom," everyone said at once. That was the one thing that annoyed him about the meetings. Everyone droned the name of the person who was up front speaking like they were robots or something.

"I, uh, I've been coming here for two and a half months now and . . . this is my first time sharing." He paused for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

"It's all right, Tom," Nate, the leader of the group, told him. "No one here is going to judge you and everything that's said in here _stays _in here." Collins nodded and took a deep breath before looking up.

"I used to be a professor at NYU," he said. "My, uh . . . problem caused me to have to quit." He paused again. "Three years ago, the aunt of one of my students tried to kill me because she believed I was the cause of his homosexuality. She hit me with a car and knocked me unconscious. The next thing I remember is waking up in a cottage my student had taken me to in order to protect me. He, uh, gave me . . . morphine . . . for the pain I was in. Each time he gave it to me . . . I felt like . . . it wasn't enough and I could tell I was . . . becoming addicted." He scanned the faces of the other members. One member in particular seemed to be extremely focused on him. "I was safe for a couple days . . . until his aunt showed up." He stopped and looked down again.

"Just take your time," Nate said. "There's no hurry."

"She held us both hostage. She . . . she had a gun and it ended up on the floor. I remember her coming at me with a knife and I . . . I picked the gun up . . . and I shot her." He looked up. "I didn't mean to kill her. I was only trying to defend myself. Now, every time I close my eyes . . . I see her die all over again and it makes me feel horrible. She wasn't exactly the nicest person in the world, but she was still a person . . . and I took her life. I started taking morphine every day after that, sometimes twice or three times." Tears formed in his eyes and he blinked them away. "My friends found out I was taking morphine and they helped me quit. I had been clean for about a month when Angel, the love of my life, got sick. We, uh, we both have AIDS. As her health faded, I felt this . . . pain in my chest . . . like my heart was breaking. When I was told he . . . _she _only had a few weeks left to live . . . I turned back to the morphine." He smiled a little. "Angel's a fighter though, she pulled through and was able to leave the hospital by the end of the month. That was one of the greatest moments of my life, but . . . I was back on morphine and hiding it from Angel and my friends. I felt _so _ashamed for what I was doing." A single tear escaped from his eye.

"That's a perfectly natural feeling, Tom," Nate assured Collins. He nodded, closed his eyes, and took another deep breath.

"Sneaking around was killing me inside, so I told everyone the truth," he continued. "I expected them to be angry, and they were, but they didn't turn their backs on me. They helped me get clean again, but the second time around was even harder. I kept cheating, I don't even know how many times I stole morphine from hospitals. Once I was two weeks clean, Angel told me she wanted a family. Any time I got a craving, that's what we would talk about . . . starting a family. We eventually adopted a beautiful baby girl named Olivia and the first time I held her . . . I knew I couldn't go back to drugs. I had a family and I had to stay clean. I've been clean for eleven months now . . ." The other members applauded him. "Thank you. I, uh, still get cravings every now and then, but . . . I refuse to go back to that drug. I'm going to do my absolute best to stay clean . . . for my family."

When the meeting ended, members hugged and shared final pieces of advice with one another before embarking on their journeys home. Collins received congratulations from several people while he was pulling on his coat. As he turned to leave, he nearly collided with someone.

"Sorry," he said. The man waved off his apology.

"No need to be," he replied. "You're brave for goin' up there and sharin' all of that." His accent reminded Collins of his mother.

"I don't really think I'm brave, but it had to be done." The man nodded. "Are you from Virginia, by chance?"

"I am. Lived there until I graduated high school, then I moved to Louisiana to get away from my parents. Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself. My name's Charles, but you can call me Charlie." Charles held his hand out and Collins shook it.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Tom, but I like to go by Collins." Charles nodded again as their hands separated. "Well, I should get go-"

"What was his name?" Charles interrupted.

"Who?" Collins asked.

"The student of yours that saved you." Collins eyed Charles suspiciously. "I'm just curious and you heard what Nate said. 'Everything that's said in here _stays _in here.'" Charles seemed honest, but Collins couldn't tell if he could trust him.

"His name is Connor."

"What does he look like?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"I want details so I can complete the mental picture."

"I, uh, really have to go now. Angel's home with our daughter and I promised her I'd take over as soon as I got home."

"That's understandable. See you around, Collins."

Collins gave a small wave goodbye before rushing out of the building. He thought about everything he had shared during the meeting. It felt refreshing to get what was going on in his mind out in the open. He felt even better knowing that the people who had listened to what he had to say weren't judging him. As he walked past several small stores on his way the subway station as he always did after a meeting, a woman stopped locking up her store and stared at him. She had a strange expression on her face. Collins pretended not to notice as he walked by her. She suddenly grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her.

"You have a _bad _chi about you," she said. Her dark brown eyes seemed to be peering right into Collins' soul through his eyes. "I wonder . . ."

"You wonder . . . what?" Collins asked, trying and failing to break eye contact with the woman. She opened the door of her store and pulled him inside. Collins took notice of the strange artifacts and trinkets. Hearing the door slam behind him, he quickly turned to face the woman. She was staring at him again. Her skin was just a shade lighter than his. She was wearing a long, brightly colored skirt, a tank top underneath her small jacket, and, despite the cold weather, sandals. Her long, black hair hung over her shoulders underneath her head scarf, which was just as brightly colored as her skirt.

"The feeling is stronger now that you're inside," she stated. Collins backed away as she walked closer to him. A counter stopped him from going any further. "Come with me."

The woman grabbed Collins' arm again and pulled him toward a room near the counter. There was nothing inside except a table, two chairs, and a small dresser. Releasing Collins, the woman flipped the light switch, opened a drawer of the dresser, and produced a deck of cards. She then sat down in one of the chairs at the table.

"Who are you?" Collins asked.

"You may call me Zina."

"'Zina?'"

"Yes." Zina gestured to the empty chair. "Please, take a seat."

"I'd rather not."

"You must." Zina was looking into Collins' eyes again. She seemed alarmingly calm. Collins found it somewhat frightening. He slowly sat down as Zina spread the cards face down over the table. "Pick one."

"I _really _have to get home," Collins told her. "My-"

"The sooner you pick a card, the sooner you can get back to you lover and child," Zina interrupted. Collins stared at her with a blank expression on his face.

"Have we met before?"

"No. Pick a card." Collins looked at the cards for a long moment before picking up a card and looking at it. There was a skull with a few daggers through it on the face of it. His eyes widened as Zina took the card from him. "Here it is again."

"What does it mean?" Collins asked.

"It's the head of a skeleton with three daggers in its head. What do you _think _it means?"

"Well, I _know _I'm going to die. I-"

"This has nothing to do with your health," Zina interrupted.

"My health?"

"You have AIDS, don't you?" Collins opened his mouth to speak. "No, we haven't met before."

"Then . . . how would you know-"

"Focus! I only see this card once every few years, but, two months ago, I started seeing it once a week, always on Tuesdays. And every time I have seen it, I see you pass my store sometime afterward. That _cannot _be a coincidence." Zina stood up and opened another drawer of the dresser.

"So . . . does it mean I'm going to die very soon?" Collins asked. Zina took a candle and a match out of the drawer before closing it.

"No," she said, placing the match and candle in the middle of the table. "There is a different card for a person's death. This card deals with the spirits of the deceased." She walked to the doorway and turned off the lights. Collins watched as she returned to her seat and lit the candle.

"'Spirits of the deceased?'" he repeated.

"You have angered one or more of them and they are seeking revenge. In order to figure out which one it is, I must look into your life. Hold your hands out, palms up." Collins hesitated before doing what Zina instructed him to. She placed her hands on top of his and closed her eyes. "I see a boy . . . he is frightened. He came to you for help in the past and therefore trusts you enough to come to you again."

"Connor . . ." Collins whispered to himself.

"You agree to help him . . . and now you and your lover are with him . . . traveling." Zina's grip on Collins' hands suddenly tightened. Her eyes remained closed. "There's a man . . . you are attacked. Your lover is as well."

"What man?" Collins asked. His pulse had quickened.

"I see you in chains . . . struggling and demanding to know where your lover is, but the man refuses to tell you." Collins tried to pull his hands away from Zina, but she maintained her grip. "The man talks about how beautiful your lover is . . ."

"I don't want to hear anymore!" Zina's eyes snapped open and she stared directly into Collins' eyes for a long while. He continued to try to take his hands back. She soon released his hands, stood up, and left the room. After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Collins followed Zina out of the room. She was looking inside a box near the cash register.

"Here we are," she said, taking half of a sky blue amulet with half of a ruby in the middle of it out of the box. She walked to Collins and placed it on him. "This has been in my family for centuries and passed down from generation to generation over the years. The youngest member of the family receives half of it at age sixteen and the other half at thirty-two."

"You're thirty-two?"

"Thirty-three. My family ages _very _well. Since I am not able to have children, I am the last one to receive the amulet. But you need its power more than I do, so I am giving you half. _Do not _take it off for _any _reason. Do you understand me?" Collins nodded, afraid to speak. "Good. Now, go be with your family, Thomas Collins."

"I . . . I never told you my name."

"Go. And keep that amulet on at _all _times."

Collins nodded again and practically ran out of the store. He looked at his watch and began sprinting in the direction of the subway station. Once he was on the train and waiting for other people to board, he looked down at the amulet around his neck.

The ruby was glowing.

**Review please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. I haven't been here for quite a while, so you can imagine how surprised I was at the changes to the site. Anyway, chapter two! Here we go.**

**I own the plot line and the OCs. I do not own the title, anything Law & Order related, or anything RENT related. **

Collins kept his attention on the amulet around his neck as he climbed the stairs to get to the apartment he shared with Angel. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of Zina's predictions. He wanted to believe they weren't true, but he had never met Zina before today and she knew things about his life that no stranger should. His mother had told him at a young age that psychics were frauds and no one could truly predict the future. As he reached his apartment, he silently decided it would be best to deal with this strange matter on his own. He tucked the amulet underneath his undershirt, took his key from his coat pocket, unlocked the door, and entered the apartment.

"Hi, honey," Angel said pleasantly. She was sitting on the couch holding Maureen and Joanne's six-month-old baby boy, Anthony. His and Angel's one-year-old daughter, Olivia, was sitting on the floor next to Maureen. There were crayons and pieces of paper all around them, indicating that they had been coloring.

"Da-dee!" Olivia exclaimed, reaching her arms out to her father. Collins chuckled and made his way over to her. He picked her up and held her close as Angel smiled at him.

"How was everything?" Maureen asked as she stood up. Collins searched his brain for the best way to describe the events of the meeting.

"Emotional," he replied. His best friend simply nodded. "So, where's Joanne?"

"She left like a half hour ago for something work related." Before Collins could ask any more questions, Olivia pulled the amulet from underneath his shirt and bit down on it. Collins gently pulled the amulet out of his daughter's mouth.

"Don't eat that, Liv," he told her. Angel placed the sleeping Anthony on the couch and stood up. She walked toward her lover and examined the amulet.

"Sweetie, where did this come from?" she asked. Collins hesitated before answering.

"A woman gave it to me."

"What woman?"

"She told me to call her Zina."

"'Zina?'" Maureen repeated. "The psychic?" Angel looked to Maureen and raised an eyebrow. Collins avoided making eye contact with either of them as he put Olivia back down on the floor. He watched the little girl pick up a crayon and begin coloring.

"Collins, you went to a psychic?" Angel asked. "I thought you said you don't believe in psychics."

"I don't," Collins replied. "And I didn't go to her. She came to me."

"Zina's the real deal, Collins," Maureen said. "I went to her when Mark and I started fighting about stupid little things back when we were dating. She told me that I'd be happier with someone more like me and that I would meet my soul mate soon. Three days later, I met Joanne."

"Mo, Joanne is _nothing _like you."

"We're both girls." Collins rolled his eyes. "So, what did she say? And why did she give you that necklace?"

"First of all, it's an amulet. Second, what she said is not important."

"Can I try it on?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not an answer."

"Could you two not argue right now?" Angel pleaded. "You're going to wake Anthony and you're setting a bad example for Olivia. Collins, just let Maureen try it on. You know she's never going to stop bugging you if you don't."

"She can't try it on," Collins said, causing his best friend to frown. "I'm not supposed to take it off."

"What do you mean you're not supposed to take it off?" Maureen asked.

"Zina told me to keep it on at all times."

"But you don't believe in psychics." Maureen folded her arms while Collins tried his hardest to think of a way to explain exactly why he was keeping the amulet on.

"She's kind of creepy," he said. "The way she looked at me made me feel like . . . I'll die if I take this thing off."

"But if you don't believe in her powers, then that shouldn't scare you."

"Maureen-"

"You're arguing again," Angel interrupted. Collins sighed heavily as someone knocked on the door. Just to get away from the conversation he was having with Maureen, the anarchist went to answer it. One of his and Angel's neighbors was on the other side, clutching an envelope in his hand.

"Hi there, Collins," he said. "I got this letter that's addressed to you by mistake."

"Oh, thanks," Collins replied. He took the envelope and received a simple nod from his neighbor before he left. Collins looked at the return address on the envelope as he shut the door. He froze and his eyes widened.

"Who's it from, honey?" Angel asked, crossing the room to get to her lover.

"It's from Connor." Collins tried to keep all traces of panic out of his voice. He stood there and just stared at the envelope for a long moment. His mind immediately went back to what Zina had said about his former student coming to him for help.

"Are you going to read it?" Maureen asked. Collins slowly opened the envelope, took the letter out of it, and looked it over. It read:

_Dear Professor Collins,_

_I know you probably find it odd that I'm writing you so suddenly, so I'm not going to make this any longer than it needs to be. You were there for me when no one else was and you helped me through an extremely rough time in my life. I was hoping you could help me again. You see, I've recently been deemed well enough to take care of myself by Dr. Fletcher and am being released from the hospital very soon. About two days after I was told I was being released, I began getting strange letters. They come without a return address and are always signed, "Yours Truly." The person who's writing them makes sure to mention that they "can't wait to see me," which can only mean they somehow found out that I'm being released. Could you possibly make it here by the end of the week? I think someone is watching me and I'm frightened. Please help me, Professor._

_Sincerely,_

_Connor A. Bennett_

Collins stared at the letter in disbelief. There was no way Zina could have known this letter would be delivered to him. Even though all signs were pointing to it, he still didn't want to believe she was actually psychic. If she was and she was right about Connor needing his help, she could be right about he and Angel being attacked. He didn't want to accept that as the truth.

"Collins, your thing is glowing," Maureen pointed out. Collins tore his attention away from the letter and looked down at the amulet. Sure enough, the ruby was glowing just as it had on the subway.

"What does the letter say?" Angel asked.

Keeping his eyes on the glowing ruby, Collins remained silent.

**Review please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Next chapter. The next story of mine to be updated will be ****It's Over****. Be on the lookout for that.**

**I own the plot line and the OCs. I do not own the title, anything Law & Order related, or anything RENT related.**

It had been two hours since Joanne had come back to the apartment to pick Maureen and Anthony up. Collins had managed to avoid the subject of Connor's letter for that same amount of time by preoccupying himself with his daughter. After he had put the one-year-old to bed, he quickly decided that he and Angel should go to bed as well. He didn't want to have to tell her about Zina's prediction. Scaring her was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Collins, are you going to tell me what the letter said now?" Angel asked as she turned on the baby monitor that rested on the night stand next to their bed. Collins didn't look at her or respond. "Hello?"

"It's not important," Collins replied. He pulled the covers back on the bed and fluffed the pillows.

"Collins . . . I know Connor is in love with you." The anarchist turned to face his lover. "I've known for a while. You don't have to try to hide it from me."

"It wasn't a love letter, Ang."

"Then why won't you tell me what it said?" Collins sat down on the bed. Angel sat down next to him and all was quiet for a long moment.

"Do you know the odds of somebody you just met knowing details of your life that you haven't shared with your family yet?" Collins asked. Angel stared blankly at him.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" she replied.

"She knew my name, she knew about you and Olivia. She even knew I have AIDS. _My mother _doesn't even know I have AIDS."

"Maybe she followed you around one day. _Or_, and I'm just going out on a limb here, maybe she really is psychic."

"No, she's not. Psychics don't exist." Angel flicked the amulet around her lover's neck. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I _like _wearing this thing?"

"She said something that got to you, didn't she?" Collins simply nodded. "What was it?"

"She knew Connor was going to contact me for help." Angel furrowed her brow.

"Well, what does he need help with?"

"He's been getting anonymous letters and it's scaring him."

"The people at the hospital can protect him, can't they?"

"He's being released soon."

"And he wants you to help him figure out who's stalking him?"

"Yes. He wants me to come to the hospital sometime before the week is over."

"I'll come with you."

"NO!" Angel jumped at the volume of Collins' voice. Before anything more could be said, crying came from the baby monitor. Collins quickly got up and left the room, Angel right behind him. She watched from the doorway as Collins entered Olivia's room. He picked the one-year-old up and comforted her as she clung to him.

"Collins-"

"Don't ask," the anarchist interrupted. Angel walked into the room just as Olivia was starting to calm down.

"What else did that woman say to you, Collins?" the drag queen asked. "Did it have something to do with me?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because you just woke our daughter up over it. Just tell me what she said, honey." Collins sighed heavily and gently placed Olivia back into her crib. She was sound asleep. The lovers then went back to their own room, where Collins immediately sat on the bed. Angel stared at him with her arms folded and waited for him to speak.

"Ang . . . I don't want you to get hurt," he said. Angel raised an eyebrow. "Zina said she saw the two of us with Connor and a man attacked us."

"What man?"

"She didn't say, but she _did _say he kept you away from me and wouldn't tell me where you were." Collins looked down at his hands. "I may not believe in psychics, but I'm not willing to risk putting you in hypothetical danger by having you come with me to help Connor."

"Honey, if her prediction is right, then you shouldn't go either," Angel pointed out. Collins' head shot up.

"I _have _to go. I can't just abandon Connor. He trusts me."

"If you go, I go."

"No."

"Then you're not going."

"Why are you making this so difficult?"

"Collins, did we or did we not make a promise to cover each other no matter what?"

"We did."

"Exactly. That means, if you're going to risk getting hurt to go help Connor, I'm going with you." Collins sighed in defeat as Angel approached him.

"How dare you use our song against me?" Angel giggled and kissed her lover's forehead. "I just don't want you to get hurt, baby."

"I won't."

"How do you know?" Angel sat on the bed next to Collins and grabbed his hand.

"I don't, but as long as you're with me, I know I'll be protected."

* * *

Angel and Collins agreed to head to Vermont that Friday. Joanne allowed them to borrow her car and she and Maureen agreed to babysit Olivia. They both packed a small bag just in case they would end up needing to stay out of town longer than they planned to. Collins, who sat in the passenger's seat for the first half of their journey, could barely concentrate on anything other than the possible danger he and Angel were heading towards. He had spent all of Wednesday and Thursday trying to convince Angel not to come with him, but had no luck. When it was his turn to drive, he thought about turning around and going back to New York, but he knew Angel would never forgive him for turning his back on Connor.

Once Lavender Meadows came into view, Collins took a deep breath. If anyone tried to hurt him or Angel, he was prepared to fight. He parked the car and he and his lover walked hand in hand into the building. There were nurses surrounding the information desk. Upon seeing the couple, the nurses began to disperse. The couple shared a look as they reached the desk.

"What just happened?" Angel wondered out loud, feeling a bit self conscious. The woman behind the desk sensed her discomfort. Collins noticed she was a completely different receptionist than he had met the first time he had come to the hospital.

"Oh, that had nothing to do with you two coming in here," she assured the drag queen. "We were just going over some last minute things for a little surprise for one of the patients. He's the sweetest thing you'll ever meet and today is his birthday. His name's Connor."

"Connor Bennett?" The receptionist nodded and Angel looked to Collins. "Did you know today was Connor's birthday?"

"Yes," Collins replied. He received a soft punch in the arm.

"You know I hate seeing people on their birthday with no gift. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because if I had, we'd still be in New York searching for the perfect thing to get him."

"I take it you're here to see Connor, but not because it's his birthday," the receptionist guessed. She picked up the phone that was on the desk and dialed a number. "I just have to make sure he's not with Dr. Fletcher." Angel and Collins waited patiently while the receptionist spoke with the doctor. "Dr. Fletcher, there are two people here to see Connor and . . . oh. Well, all right then. I'll tell them."

"Is he with Dr. Fletcher?" Collins asked as the receptionist hung up the phone.

"No, but Dr. Fletcher is on his way to his room. He said he'll take you there. His office isn't that far from here." The receptionist took a moment to study Angel and Collins. "While we're waiting for him, I just have to say you two make an adorable couple."

"Oh, thank you," Angel said. She smiled as Collins kissed her on the cheek.

"I remember you," Dr. Fletcher stated as he entered the lobby. Angel and Collins looked to him. "I didn't know your name until my first session with Connor, but I _do _remember you. What brings you here?"

"Connor sent me a letter asking me to come," Collins answered.

"Is this about the letters he's been getting?"

"He told you about them?"

"Yes. They're all he's been able to focus on since the day they started coming. Follow me, I'll take you to him."

Angel and Collins followed the doctor out of the lobby. They passed several patients' rooms, most of them empty. Dr. Fletcher stopped walking periodically to speak with passing nurses. All of the nurses were carrying some sort of decoration. Angel and Collins assumed it had something to do with the surprise for Connor.

"So, Dr. Fletcher, is Connor completely cured?" Angel asked. The doctor glanced back at her and slowed his pace a bit.

"Not exactly," he replied. "But his mental health _is _under control. It's certainly much better than it was when he first came here."

"What does that mean?" They reached a closed door before Dr. Fletcher stopped walking again. He turned to face the couple.

"After Connor had been here for about a week, he asked for a book. A nurse and I took him to the nearest bookstore and he saw a little boy that looked lost. He approached the boy and asked him if he could help him find anything, but the boy's father showed up and told Connor his son was fine." Dr. Fletcher paused for a moment. He seemed to be trying to think of how he should continue.

"What happened after that?" Collins pressed.

"Connor wouldn't let go of the boy. The nurse and I had to pull him away and the second that boy's father got him out of the store, Connor started shouting, 'I have to help him. He's going to hurt him.'"

"So, he knew something you didn't," Angel said.

"Exactly. The boy was actually trying to hold onto Connor's hand." Dr. Fletcher paused again. "On the car ride back here, Connor let out this bloodcurdling scream of pain, then he was quiet after a few seconds."

"Albert took over," Collins guessed. Dr. Fletcher nodded.

"He accused us of putting Connor in harm's way and then not letting him help a child in need," he continued. "The nurse asked him if she could talk to Connor and apologize, but he refused to let her." Dr. Fletcher sighed and shook his head. "We didn't see Connor for six months after that."

"Six months?" Angel and Collins said together.

"Yes. He was essentially trapped inside his own body."

"Well, how did you get him to resurface?" Collins asked.

"There was nothing I or any of the nurses _could _do. Connor's mother is the one who convinced Albert that Connor wouldn't be harmed. She wasn't even fazed by his threats. She's a very brave woman."

"Did Connor say anything about . . . his experience?" Angel asked.

"He only remembered the boy at the bookstore. Nothing more. It was as if he blinked and six months went by. But, like I said, everything is under control now. His personality, his post traumatic stress, and his attachment disorder." Collins raised an eyebrow.

"'Attachment disorder?'" he repeated.

"Yes. Connor seemed to be quite smitten with you and after a few sessions with him, I realized he wasn't actually in love with you. He was just grateful to have someone in his life that showed him some form of kindness. So, are you ready to see him for the first time in three years?"

"Has he changed much?"

"See for yourself."

Dr. Fletcher then faced the closed door and turned the knob.

**Review please.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This long chapter here is where things get intense. Benjamin Coffin III shall be making an entrance in the next chapter. That is all.**

**I own the plot line and the OCs. I do not own the title, anything Law & Order related, or anything RENT related.**

The second Dr. Fletcher opened the door, both Angel and Collins' eyes landed on Connor. He was kneeling on his bed facing the wall, where eight papers were hanging, with a pencil in one hand and a ruler in the other. The couple followed the doctor into the room. It seemed empty. Collins guessed that most of Connor's things had been packed up and sent to wherever he was going to be living.

"Connor?" Dr. Fletcher said. "You have-"

"One second," Connor interrupted. He put the ruler up to one of the papers taped to his wall and brought his face as close to it as possible.

"Connor, what are you doing?"

"Measuring." Angel and Collins exchanged looks of confusion. Connor soon brought the ruler down to his side and just stared at the papers. "This _can't _be a coincidence."

"What exactly are you measuring?"

"The amount of space between the words that make up these letters. They're evenly spaced in all eight of them."

"Really?"

"Yes. It would be fascinating if I wasn't so terrified of this man."

"How do you know it's a man?"

"I spent all last night analyzing the language and handwriting of the letters." Connor climbed off of his bed and turned to face Dr. Fletcher. He gasped upon seeing Angel and Collins standing in his room. "Professor Collins, Angel! You came!" A smile spread across his face as he walked toward Angel and Collins. They both gave him warm hugs while Dr. Fletcher slipped out of the room to let them have their visit in private.

"Happy birthday, honey," Angel said after she had taken her arms from around Connor. She then touched his hair. It was now chin-length. "You let your hair grow?"

"Thank you, and yes," Connor replied. He blushed slightly. "There was someone here that . . . liked it long." Angel smiled at him.

"Does he have a name?"

"Matthew. Up until last week, he was a volunteer here." Angel nodded and Connor looked to Collins. "Thanks for coming, Professor."

"No problem," the anarchist said. "And you don't have to call me 'Professor.'"

"But that's all I've ever called you."

"Well . . . I'm not exactly a professor anymore. I had to quit my job at the university."

"What? Why?" Connor was in complete shock. He never thought he would see the day Collins stopped molding young minds. He felt he had so much to teach those who were eager to learn.

"Morphine." That was the only thing Collins had to say for Connor to understand just why he was no longer teaching. "It became uncontrollable. I kept snapping at my students and my friends any time they asked me if I was okay. I was a completely different person. It was only a matter of time before I got fired, so I decided to end things on my own terms."

The look on Connor's face as Collins spoke told the anarchist exactly how the rest of this conversation was going to go.

"I'm . . . _so _sorry," Connor told Collins.

"Connor-"

"I thought I was helping you with your pain," the young man continued. "I, of all people, should have seen the signs of addiction." Angel and Collins looked at Connor expectantly. Noticing this, the twenty-one-year-old dropped his attention to the floor. "When I was thirteen, Aunt Anna beat me half to death. And I'm being literal, I ended up in the ICU. During my stay, I was given morphine for pain. I liked the way it made me feel and I started lying about being in pain just to get it. The day I was released from the hospital, I managed to take some with me. I used it whenever I wanted to escape."

"How did you get clean?" Angel inquired.

"Uncle Arthur caught me using it and helped me. We kept it from Aunt Anna though." Connor looked up at Collins. "How long have you been clean?"

"Eleven months," Collins answered. "And my addiction wasn't your fault, okay? I made my own decisions." Connor nodded, but still felt responsible.

"What should I call you then?" he asked.

"Call me Collins. I may not be your professor anymore, but I'm still your friend." Connor couldn't help but smile. "So, what have you figured out from analyzing the letters?"

"Well, from just looking at the handwriting, I noticed the pressure he uses to write is constant in all eight of the letters, meaning he was extremely calm when he wrote them. From actually reading the letters, I've learned that this man is as arrogant as they come. It's like he believes the world owes him something. And most of the words he uses are completely unnecessary, which leads me to believe that he wants me to know he's smart. He actually wrote, 'You are not as smart as you may think you are.'"

"'You're not as smart as you may think you are?'"

"No, not 'you're.' He specifically used 'you are.' There are no contractions in his letters."

"Well, writing that could mean he's trying to tell you he's smarter than you," Angel stated.

"That's what I thought. And every letter has exactly one hundred sixty words, including the heading and signature."

"You think that's significant?" Collins asked.

"One hundred sixty is the lowest IQ a person can have to be considered a genius, isn't it?" Angel questioned. Both Connor and Collins looked to her. She patiently waited for a response.

"I hadn't thought of that," Connor admitted. "That _could _be his subtle way of telling me he's a genius."

"Did you figure out anything else?"

"The fact that he's so particular about certain aspects of his letters makes me think he may have a moderate to severe case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Everything is in a precise spot, almost like he used some sort of template."

"So, what exactly do you need help with?" Collins asked. "You've already figured out so much by just analyzing the letters."

"I need you to help me figure out who he could be. If I know who he is, I can decide what actions to take to protect myself and my mom."

"Your mom?" Angel repeated.

"He mentioned her in the last two letters."

"What exactly did he write about her?"

"'The last time I saw your mother, she looked exquisite. I do hope that has not changed.'"

"Connor, have you met your father?" Collins inquired. Connor shook his head. "Do you think maybe he could be the person sending you these letters?"

"There's a thought," Angel commented.

"I have no idea," Connor told both Angel and Collins. "I don't know anything _about _my father. And I can't ask my mother about him. She refuses to tell me anything. Besides, she's not very happy with me at the moment."

"Why not, sweetie?"

"I tried to get information about my father out of Uncle Arthur when he came to visit a little bit ago. He told my mom and she was . . . _so_ upset. Dr. Fletcher decided it would be best if I was kept away from her for a while. I haven't seen her in a week. She doesn't know she was mentioned in any of the letters."

"Well, she _needs _to know," Collins said. "She can probably help figure out if they're coming from your father or not."

Before anything more could be said, the receptionist from the front desk appeared in the doorway.

"Dr. Fletcher wants you, Connor," she said. "He's in the lounge. Come with me."

Connor nodded and followed her out of the room. Angel and Collins stayed close behind Connor. The twenty-one-year-old took notice that the hospital seemed completely empty. When they arrived at the lounge, most of the patients and nurses were standing around a large cake. The lounge had been decorated with streamers and balloons.

"Happy birthday, Connor!" everyone exclaimed. Connor smiled as Dr. Fletcher approached him. He was carrying a book.

"We all know you like to read, but we couldn't think of anything you might not have read," he told Connor. He held the book out to the young man. "Have you read War and Peace?"

"I have," Connor replied. "But it'll be nice to have my own copy. Thank you." He scanned the faces of the people in the lounge. Carrie was sitting on a couch on the far side of the room.

"Would you like to cut the cake?" Connor brought his attention back to Dr. Fletcher.

"I would actually like to talk to my mom right now, if that's okay." The doctor gave an understanding nod. A nurse began cutting the cake as Connor, Angel, and Collins made their way over to Carrie. She smiled as her son sat down next to her, placing his new book on the other side of him. Angel and Collins sat in two nearby chairs.

"Happy birthday," Carrie said.

"Thanks." Connor looked down at his hands. "Mom . . . I'm _really _sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Connor. I shouldn't have tried to keep the truth from you. I just didn't want you to have to worry about this." Carrie took hold of one of Connor's hands and he looked up at her. "But . . . you _do _deserve to know about him. I mean, he's the entire reason I took you to Vermont."

"He is?" Carrie nodded. "What did he do?"

"He was the sweetest man I'd ever met, but when we found out I was pregnant . . . he changed."

"What do you mean? Did he not want children?"

"No, he _did _want a child. He just . . . didn't want a son. The day he found out you were a boy, he started drinking."

"I don't understand. Why didn't he want me?"

"I didn't understand it either, sweetheart. After you were born, he would stay out late, he was drunk all the time, he would hit me if I asked him where he'd been. I didn't understand why he did any of it. Not until you turned two."

"What happened when I was two?"

"You read the newspaper out loud to him while we were in the living room of our home. He applauded you and when you held your arms out for a hug, he stared at you for a long time. Then he just left."

"Did he come back?"

"Yes. At around three in the morning. I expected him to come straight to our bedroom, but he didn't. I found him in your room sitting next to your bed while you slept. There was this strange look in his eyes. He was stroking your hair and he occasionally kissed your forehead. I startled him by asking why he was so late coming home. He completely ignored me and left the room." Carrie shifted on the couch. "The next day while I was making breakfast, someone rang the doorbell. Your father answered it and I waited for him to tell me who was at the door, but he never did, so I went to the front hallway to find out. A police officer and our neighbors were standing on the porch. I asked what was going on and the officer told me that our neighbors' twelve-year-old son told his parents that your father had . . . touched him."

"Was it true?"

"I asked that same question. Your father didn't say anything. That's when you came out of the living room and I picked you up. I told that police officer to do whatever he needed to, then I went to start packing. All I could think of was that look he had the previous night when he was at your bedside. I knew I had to leave for your sake. And that's just what I did."

"So . . . my dad is a pedophile?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"How many kids has he hurt?"

"I don't know."

"Did he ever do anything to _me_?"

"Oh, God, no. You were never out of my sight. Everywhere I went, you went."

"Where is he now?"

"Last I heard, he'd been sentenced to twenty years in prison. He deserves a hell of a lot more, if you ask me."

"What's his name?"

"I'm not going to tell you that. I don't want you trying to track him down."

"Would you say he's a genius?"

"I would. That's where you get your brains from."

"Does he have OCD?"

"'OCD?' Now, why would ask me that?"

"It's just a question." Carrie stared at her son until he looked away from her. "You know the letters I've been getting for the past two months?"

"Yes, what about them?"

"You were mentioned in the last two. Whoever is sending me these letters has to know you."

"And you think they're coming from your father?" Connor nodded. "That's impossible. The only way he would send you letters is if he knew you were here. And the only way he'd know that is if he knew _I _was here."

"Is everything okay between you two?" Dr. Fletcher asked as he made his way over to Carrie and Connor.

"Everything is fine, Dr. Fletcher," Carrie told him.

"That's good."

"Dr. Fletcher, I have a question," Connor said, looking up at the doctor.

"Ask away."

"You said I'm well enough to leave the hospital and take care of myself. Do you think I could also take care of my mother?"

"I . . . suppose. Why do you ask?"

"I want to protect her."

"Connor, that's very sweet of you, but I don't want to be a burden," Carrie said.

"You _won't _be a burden, Mom. I just want you to be safe."

"Well, you're supposed to be leaving tomorrow," Dr. Fletcher pointed out. "All your things have been sent to your uncle's house already. Your mother's things are still here. Of course, you can always send for them, but we only have transportation arranged for _you._"

"Collins and I can take them," Angel suggested. Collins gave her a look, but didn't say anything. Angel was busy trying to figure out how Dr. Fletcher would react to her plan.

"Well . . . if it's all right with you two, it's all right with me," he said.

* * *

Angel and Collins were back at the hospital and ready for their journey to New York the following afternoon. Dr. Fletcher was waiting outside of the building for them. The second the car was parked, the doctor went inside the hospital and came back out with Connor and Carrie behind him. The mother and son got into the backseat of the car after saying their goodbyes.

No one spoke much during the voyage. Connor spent most of the car ride reading while he held his mother's hand. He could sense she was a bit uneasy about leaving Lavender Meadows. Every so often he would give her hand a gentle squeeze to assure her that everything would be okay.

As it began to get dark, Collins, who was driving, thought back to Zina's prediction. He kept stealing glances at Angel. She was looking out the window at the sunset. He hoped this was one thing Zina was wrong about. After about half of the trip had been made, Collins pulled over at a gas station. He and Angel had stopped at that same station on their way to the hospital.

"We're making a pit stop," he announced. "Does anybody need to get out?"

"I do," Connor replied. "Is there a restroom here? I've had to go for the last hour."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Carrie asked her son.

"We were making good time." Angel and Collins shared a laugh.

"There's a restroom here, Connor," Collins said. He looked to Angel and Carrie. "Either of you ladies need to go?"

"No," Angel and Carrie answered. Collins nodded and he and Connor entered the small building. They approached the counter, but no one was behind it. Collins rang the small bell that rested on the counter. A man came out of a door that wouldn't be noticed without being opened. Connor's mouth dropped open at the sight of him.

"Matthew?" he said in shock. Collins looked to Connor and then back to the man behind the counter. He had short, dirty blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He wore blue jeans, a simple T-shirt, and a light jacket. As he stared at Connor, he looked absolutely mortified.

"_This _is Matthew?" Collins asked.

"Yes. I thought I'd never see him again."

"Same here," Matthew replied. His eyes were shifting back and forth. "What are you doing here?"

"I was released from the hospital today. Collins is taking my mom and I to my uncle's house. I'd love to talk more, but I really have to, you know . . . go." Matthew nodded and produced a key that was attached to a small, wooden plank from a compartment on the counter.

"Bathroom's on the side of the building."

Connor took the key and walked as fast as he could to the restroom. After he had relieved himself and was washing his hands, he heard a scream. He froze for a moment before quickly drying his hands and exiting the restroom. When he made it back to the front of the building, he saw a man forcing Angel and his mother into the back of a windowless van. He dropped the key and ran back inside the building. There, he saw Matthew standing over an unconscious Collins with a shovel in his hand.

"Connor, just let me explain," Matthew said. Connor darted out the door and away from the building. He suddenly remembered his mobile phone was in the pocket of his jacket. He took it out, dialed 9-1-1, and pressed the call button, but he was grabbed from behind and the phone fell from his hand.

"Let me go!" he cried. A cloth was then put over his nose and mouth. The sweet scent of the cloth was the last thing he thought about before darkness overcame him.

**Review please.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chappy-ter! Enjoy it.**

**I own the plot line and the OCs. I do not own the title, anything Law & Order related, or anything RENT related.**

Connor awoke completely dazed. He had been placed on a single mattress. Slowly sitting upright, he rubbed his eyes. The shackles around his ankles and the fact that he was barefoot were the first things he noticed. His still unconscious friend on the other side of the room was the second thing he noticed. He gasped and quickly stood up. It only took four steps for the shackles to cause him to fall forward. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the floor with a loud _thud. _He took a moment to catch his breath before standing again and carefully making his way across the room. He took notice of the shackles around his friend's ankles and wrists.

"Collins . . . please wake up," he said, kneeling beside the anarchist and shaking him gently. Collins groaned softly, but his eyes remained closed. Connor took the time to look around the room. There were a few stacked boxes and crates against one of the walls. The only source of light came from a window high above Collins' head. It was daytime. There was an opening that undoubtedly led to a flight of stairs opposite the wall that the boxes and crates were resting against. Just by the appearance of the room, Connor concluded that they were in an attic. He shook his former professor again until he heard footsteps. The steps sounded as though someone was ascending the stairs. Staring in the direction of the stairs, he watched a man he wasn't sure he had seen before enter the room with Matthew trailing behind him. Connor stood up as the man walked toward him. He was smiling.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for two long moths," he said. Connor carefully took two steps backward. He thought about running, but he remembered the shackles around his ankles had caused him to fall before. The man stood in front of him and just stared. Without warning, he tucked some of the young man's hair behind his ear, keeping his hand on the side of his face.

"Who are you?" Connor asked rather quietly.

"Why don't we get to know each other a little better before I tell you who I am?" His accent reminded Connor of a cross between that of his mother and his deceased aunt.

"He's opening his eyes," Matthew announced. The man and Connor both looked to him. He was kneeling next to Collins as Connor had been not too long ago. Collins slowly lifted his head and looked to Connor through squinted eyes. He instantly recognized the man standing near him.

"Charles?" he said softly. Charles smirked at the anarchist.

"Hello, Collins," he replied.

"How do you know him?" Connor asked Charles.

"We're in the same support group," Collins answered. He did his best to look to the man. "What the hell's going on here?"

"I got lucky, that's what." Charles turned to his attention back to Connor. "I was sure my plan was ruined when that doctor told me I wouldn't have to pick you up, but the second he told me a friend of yours would be transporting you instead-"

"You were supposed to pick me up?" Connor interrupted.

"Yes. As far as that doctor knew, I was certified to transport you. I wasn't aware that your mother would be released as well. And Collins being the one to take you from the hospital was just icing on the cake."

"Dr. Fletcher told you Collins was picking me up?"

"No, he just said a friend. I was _very_ pleased to find out it was him though. I'm killin' two birds with one stone."

"What is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Where's Angel?" Collins asked. Charles turned to him, but said nothing. "Where is she?"

"Don't you worry about Angel," Charles replied. "I'll take _good _care of her."

"If you touch her, I swear to God I _will _kill you."

"Now, you and I both know you won't be able to do that." Charles looked to Matthew. "Come on, boy. You've got work to do." He walked toward the stairs with Matthew right behind him.

"Where's my mom?" Connor called after him. Charles stopped walking and looked back at the twenty-one-year-old. He simply chuckled and headed down the stairs. Collins didn't even have to look at the amulet around his neck to know it was glowing again.

* * *

"It seems like she doesn't want you to have access to _anything _in the house,"Joanne said to Benny, who was sitting next to her on the couch. He had called the previous night and asked if he could stop by for some legal advice regarding his pending divorce. His wife's lawyer had drawn up an agreement and he was expected to sign it before the day was over.

"I know," Benny replied. "It's not fair at all."

"No one in their right mind would sign this."

"I know that, too, but she threatened to have me arrested if I don't sign it. That's why I came to you."

"I don't see why you're helping him anyway," Maureen stated bitterly as she fed Anthony.

"Well, I _am _paying her."

"We don't _want _your money, you stupid f-"

"Language, Maureen," Joanne interrupted. Maureen glared at Benny before turning her attention back to Anthony. "Is Olivia still asleep?"

"Last time I checked she was."

"So, what can I do to get out of this?" Benny asked.

"The only thing I can suggest is hiring a lawyer to help you do the same thing she did and hopefully you two can come up with a mutual agreement that benefits you both," Joanne told him.

"Well, would _you _be my lawyer?"

"Don't do it!" Maureen exclaimed, taking Anthony's bottle away from him and facing Joanne. "He's the enemy!" Anthony started to cry and Maureen gave him his bottle back. There was a knock on the door then. Joanne placed the document on the coffee table and got up to answer the door. She was surprised to find a uniformed police officer on the other side of it.

"Joanne Jefferson?" the officer said. Joanne looked back at her girlfriend.

"Maureen, what did you do now?" she asked.

"I'm not here to arrest anyone, ma'am." The lawyer turned back to the officer. "Are you aware that your car was stolen?"

"It wasn't stolen. I let some friends borrow it. Their names are Angel Schunard and Thomas Collins. Why would you say it was stolen?"

"Ma'am, your car was found about three hours away from here last night. There was no one in it. It was completely abandoned." Joanne furrowed her brow and Maureen slowly took Anthony's bottle away from him. She stared at the officer and waited for him to say something more.

"That can't be right," Joanne replied. "They're . . . they're just going to be a little late coming home. They called and said they were taking Connor and his mom . . . are you sure it was _my _car?"

"The license plate number confirmed the car is registered to you."

"Then . . . where are my friends?" The officer sighed heavily. Maureen was on the verge of tears and Benny was in shock.

"I don't know," the officer said. "All I know is that your car was found along with a cell phone. And whoever had the cell phone managed to dial 9-1-1."

Joanne turned to see tears streaming down Maureen's face. Benny gently took Anthony from her and she wrapped her arms around herself. After receiving a look from Joanne, Benny took Anthony out of the living room. The lawyer then looked back to the officer.

"What is the NYPD doing to find them?" she asked, trying to be as professional as possible despite how she felt at the moment.

"The NYPD can't do anything, ma'am," the officer told her. Joanne's eyes widened. "The case isn't in our jurisdiction. I'm very sorry." The officer left without saying another word. Benny then reentered the living room as Joanne shut the door.

"The NYPD can't do anything to help find them," she informed him.

"What can I do to help?" he asked. Maureen looked at him through tear-filled eyes. She couldn't believe he actually cared. "Just name it and I'll do it. I don't care what it is."

"Call everyone and tell them to meet here. I have to make a call to someone else."

"Someone else?"

"I know a detective who will help find Angel and Collins regardless of whose jurisdiction the case is in."

"Got it." Joanne went to the kitchen where she had left her purse on the counter. She dug through it, found her mobile phone, and dialed the familiar number. It rang twice before it was answered.

"Detective Green, it's Joanne Jefferson," she said into the phone. "I _really _need your help."

**Review please. They are greatly appreciated.**


End file.
